


In Which the Inquisitor Wasn't what Dorian was Expecting

by Mika (DatatheRoast)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slight canon deviation, nothing too serious really just a little bit of artistic liscense for what I'm trying to do here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:40:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 14,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatatheRoast/pseuds/Mika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pavel Lavellan is a highly empathetic elf with chronic puppy eyes and a stubborn streak to be reckoned with. Dorian can't say he's disappointed, but he can't even begin to wrap his head around why, despite his best efforts, the elf is sticking around and doing what Dorian had wanted his parents to do all along- recognising him as a person with feelings, and acknowledging his victories, no matter how small they were to him.<br/>_____<br/>So I was brainstorming headcanons with friends about various Inquisitors and what they'd do with, to, and for a romanced Dorian. A thought came to mind along the lines of "what if the Inquisitor spoiled Dorian emotionally and was there for him in ways his family never was and Dorian didn't know what int he Void was going on?", and so here we are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not What the Rumors Said

**Author's Note:**

> I felt like the DA team kinda missed out on some really cool character development that could have happened with Dorian if the Inquisitor had been able to take a more emotional approach to their relationship. While what we got with the scene with his father is great, I feel like there was little to no emotional development in the actual romance scenes themselves and Dorian has a lot of baggage to work through.
> 
> The point is I thought it would be super cool if the Inquisitor was able to help Dorian work through his issues and if it was a two-way street.
> 
> I should also mention this hasn't been proofread for anything but spelling, and since my friends with access to the document have said that a) it's good and b) I should put it here, I hope my writing skills are up to par.
> 
> \----------
> 
> EDIT: Moved end notes here because they were showing up on all chapters for me and I wasn't appreciating it at all.
> 
> I'm gonna be honest, I have five-and-a-half chapters already written of this and the original drabble that I expanded into this. I might post the drabble later, but it's with a different Inquisitor of mine and I'm not too terribly happy with it.
> 
> As far as the rating goes, I'm not comfortable with writing smut and putting it up publicly.
> 
> Chapters will usually be fairly short. I write them in the threshold of 1,000+ words, typically.
> 
> And finally, this is the only chapter with a heinous amount of notes, I promise!

Dorian didn’t know what he’d been expecting out of the Herald of Andraste, really. Certainly not a wiry elven mage with a pretty face. Even less expected, was for him to listen so attentively- not the businesslike, stoic sort of attentiveness. No. He didn’t wear an emotional mask- at least not that he could tell. He looked thoughtful and sympathetic to what he and Felix were telling him.

“I’m glad you’re not truly keeling over,” the raven-haired man had said once business talk was done and over with, “I was worried.”

Worried! About someone he’d barely learned the name of five seconds before he feigned illness to give him a vague note that ended up sounding like a half-threat! Was this man for real?

He had, of course, been expecting someone completely different to bear a powerful mark on their hand and the fate of the world on their shoulders. From what he’d heard from everyone- and he meant everyone, no one could shut up about this man!- he’d pictured an average human man. No one had mentioned him being an elf- no one knew his real name, not even his surname- or a mage. No, surely, Pavel Lavellan was not some six-foot-two Templar blessed by Andraste herself for his efforts in keeping the southern bits of Thedas from blood magic and whatnot. No blond-haired-blue-eyed muscular hero in full plate armor and a flowing cape on a mountain-top here!

The Herald of Andraste was a short, spindly, Dalish elf with a cute face, messy black hair that may or may not go down to his lovely backside when let down out of the rag he’d put on his head to keep it all in check He did have blue eyes, though. Otherwise, he had a leather coat over a shirt and some pants, no shoes, and a staff. Dorian’s eyes had traced faint purple tattoos on his face, too, and that was really just the cherry on top.

The Altus mage could howl in laughter for hours at the reactions that came up in his head from others less inclined to appreciate the surprise the Herald packed. He didn’t though. Too many important things to do- like keep his former mentor from fucking with time past the point of return.

 

* * *

 

Pavel stepped away from Dorian in surprise when the man began laughing in his face. What was so funny about being concerned for someone’s well being after they went through what the two of them had just had to deal with? There was even a bigger blow to Dorian as far as the elf was concerned- what with the fact that who they’d just had to lock up being someone he’d looked up to and regarded so fondly in the past.

“Why are you laughing? I just want to make sure you’re not distressed,” he asked, brows furrowed.

“Because!” The other mage cried out as he collected himself from his fit of raucous laughter, “you’re concerned for my well being and we haven’t even known each other for a week! I half expected you to toss me aside by now what with how many people are talking about how I’m from Tevinter- land of blood magic and other heinous crimes against humanity and whatnot.”

“Why would I do that?” Pavel tipped his head to the side in confusion, “they haven’t even taken the time to interact with you properly. I got lost in time with you, and the fact that I’m standing here to prevent that future from happening instead of sitting a year in the future either dead or in the Elder One’s hands speaks above their assumptions.”

The Tevinter man snorted and took a deep breath to keep from laughing more, “what, the Herald of Andraste isn't concerned that the evil Tevinter Magister is tricking him into thinking he’s not a blood mage out to manipulate him? Not even after all his loyal subjects have been chittering on about how I will do that?”

The elf shifted uncomfortably, “I’m not. You haven’t given me any reason to…” He cleared his throat and looked away, “and would you mind terribly not calling me that? Call me Pavel, or Lavellan, even, I don’t care. Just not the Herald… Prophet… Whatever of a divine entity I don’t believe in.”

Dorian blinked at him. This man was for real, evidently, but this was just too much. Such an important figure taking the time to get to know him like he was? Before he’d asked if he was alright, he’d listened to Dorian babble on about himself and Tevinter for almost an hour!He’d been so genuinely interested, too, to top it all off.

He supposed he could to him a small favor like not calling him that obnoxious title. “Alright, Lavellan… And for the record, I’m doing well enough. Now don’t you have more important things to do than make people worry I’m corrupting you with how much we talk with one another?”

Pavel looked surprised for a moment before giving him a warm smile, “Thank you. I’m glad to hear you’re not too bad off. Feel free to ask for anything you might need. I have to go see if Josephine got a letter back from my clan yet- thank you for reminding me.”

Dorian caught a look of worry and homesickness on his face as he turned and left. The elf was a open book, heart on his sleeve for the world to see!

What in the Void did this man think he was doing? Dorian shook his head, he didn’t know, and he imagined he wouldn’t find out for a while. He could only hope that he wouldn’t throw Dorian for any more loops like this before then. He’d never had anyone take such a genuine interest in what he had to to say about Tevinter or himself, much less how he was feeling. If this became a regular thing, the mage might short-circuit of such a drastic change from how he was treated back home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Finally got around to drawing Pavel. Just a sketch for now. I'm working on coloring him, really.


	2. Please Don't Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian goes for a late-night stroll to find the Herald of Andraste is beyond overloaded with everything that's been happening recently. He's not used to comforting people, but Pavel doesn't seem to mind much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I tried to hold back on updating too quickly, but I don't see much of a point in waiting too long when I have seven chapters written now. Updates will be sporadic, depending on my motivation and how busy I am, so sorry in advance.
> 
> Also, thank you for the kind comments and the kudos. It makes me obnoxiously happy to know people are enjoying my stuff.
> 
> I'm going to see if maybe I can draw Pavel and put him in the first chapter so you guys can have a point of reference.

“Do you ever take that rag off your head?” Dorian asked, making Pavel jump and turn with fire in his hands before processing that the person who startled him was someone who he liked for some reason.

“Not often,” the elf admitted as he relaxed, “I have appearances to keep up, and it’s part of my image… I guess.” He shrugged and went back to leaning against the stable gate and petting his horse, “It’s also a good luck charm from my mother- her favorite scarf. Keeps the homesickness at bay a little bit.”

“Ah, my apologies, I did not mean to sound… Accusatory,” the Tevinter mage leaned against the post beside him. “What brings the ever-important Lavellan out here this late at night?”

Pavel furrowed his brows and his hand stilled on the horse’s snout, looking contemplative as to whether or not he should say anything, or perhaps even lie. “Nightmares,” he admitted at last, “just flashbacks to getting lost in time.”

“That was a month ago,” Dorian said, in awe for a moment when it fully dawned on him. They’d been running around, rescuing soldiers, helping refugees, scouting, finding strange characters to recruit into what had started being called the Inner Circle for that long?Well, with all that time, Dorian supposed it was reasonable, then, that he had grown a little attached to the elf and all his silly concerns, and the fact that he was still so distraught over something wasn’t sitting well with him.

“It’s still a possible outcome,” Pavel rubbed at his face and shook his head, “especially if something goes wrong with closing the breach tomorrow.”

So that was what was really bugging him. He opened his mouth to say the first reassurance that came to mind, but snapped it shut again. There was no way to know how that would go- truly. He was scared too, but Pavel must be terrified. He rested a hand on the elf’s shoulder gently, simple physical contact all he had to offer at the moment. The other man looked over at him with a strained smile, looking to be on the brink of tears. Oh no- Dorian didn’t do well with crying people- no.

The first tear spilled and he knew he was fucked. Pavel scrambled to wipe it away, looking embarrassed, which made more fall before he got frustrated and choked out a humorless laugh and started to quietly sob into his hands. What was Dorian supposed to even do here? Sure, he’d give a lot to hug the elf before him- but not like this. The Altus mage was so out of his element here, but he decided he may as well try to do something. He stepped closer and rubbed the elf’s back awkwardly- if not to just repay him for his strangely unconditional concern for him.

Pavel pulled himself together eventually, wiping his face with his sleeves and his hands on his pants, “I’m sorry, Dorian. I didn’t expect to…” He heaved a heavy sigh and shook his head, stepping away from the taller man and hugging himself, “thank you, you didn’t have to comfort me like that.”

“You’re welcome,” Dorian would go on a diatribe about how he had been there for him without him having to even look uncomfortable about one thing or another, or how it was no trouble, but he felt it was unwarranted. “You’re alright now, yes?”

Pavel nodded and smiled tiredly, “I am. What about you, Dorian, what brought you out here at this hour- surely not to see me break down like that.”

“Sleep isn’t a good friend of mine either, Lavellan,” the Tevinter man shrugged, “nothing you need to worry about. Evidently, your plate is already over-full. I will be fine, I’ll sleep soon.”

Pavel nodded and smiled his usual relieved smile at hearing someone was at least some facsimile of okay that warmed Dorian’s heart, “I wish you luck in your endeavors with the slippery mistress that is sleep.”

“Mm, no wonder I don’t sleep so easily, if sleep is a mistress,” Dorian joked, voice thoughtful.

“Wha-?” Pavel looked genuinely confused for a second before it dawned on him what Dorian was saying, “oh! That- that explains the flirting back business. I thought you just did that with everyone.”

Dorian snorted, “I do flirt with everyone, but I usually really mean it when it comes to men.”

“Usually? Well, I hope I’m not the exception, I do enjoy our shameless back-and-forth eyebrow-waggling,” Pavel said, looking half-worried and half like he was joking.

Dorian chuckled, “no, of course not. You’re too much of a delight to be around- almost as much as I am.”

The elf laughed quietly, shaking his head and tossing about his mess of loosely curled black hair. Dorian liked his laugh, and his hair. And just about everything to this man he’d seen so far. Save his fashion sense and how he was so perplexingly sensitive to everyone, but no one was perfect. The elf dragged Dorian out of his ogling thoughts with a yawn and a luxurious stretch that popped joints and arched his back prettily. Dorian barely kept from staring and grabbing at him to ask if he could make his back arch like that off of a mattress instead.

“Well, off to bed with you, then,” the mage said in favor of making the other man uncomfortable, stepping away and smiling tiredly, yawning himself. “Busy day saving the world tomorrow and all that. If I don’t see you before then, I must ask you not to go off dying. I do rather enjoy your companionship, and I’d notice with no small level of dismay if you were gone.”

“Mm, I’ll try not to, then,” Pavel said with a small, nervous smile before they parted ways.

Dorian watched him go, as always, and wondered what in the void he himself was doing, now. There was no sense in getting so attached to the likes of Lavellan. Not when his family could send to have him dragged back home at any moment, or either of them could die at any minute. The fact that the elf was his superior and everyone hated him didn’t help either. He’d feel awful if he was to tarnish this man’s reputation; his willingness to participate in the process of such with him entirely his choice anyways was entirely irrelevant as far as the masses were concerned.

He heaved a sigh and retired to his bed. He fell asleep with the determination to squash his feelings for Pavel’s sake and keep their relationship strictly platonic. And that was still pushing it.


	3. Borderline Despair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian is kept from helping his new friend. When Pavel finds out, he proves to have quite the temper, and paired with a protective streak, Dorian knows he's fucked. It hits him harder when what he figured his last glimpse of the elf is him begging the Tevinter man to save his own skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mondays are gross and I had a busy weekend. This chapter is a wee bit longer simply because the original plan was to cram quite a bit into it (let it be known this is only 2/3rds of what I'd planned but I didn't want it to be super long in comparison to the rest).
> 
> I might cry I keep seeing people leaving Kudos and bookmarking and commenting and it's making me obnoxiously happy. Thank you all so much for the kind words and all that.
> 
> Anyhow, I think it's either this chapter or maybe the last one that I started writing while listening to the Great Gatsby. Of course, I haven't been doing that for all the chapters, but if you're wondering why how this fic is written keeps shifting around, that would be why.

Dorian spent hours distracting himself from his friend possibly dying with research. Fleeting research on anything and everything, it didn’t matter. He’d started reading about Dalish clans out of a sudden burning curiosity when the whole of Haven began to cheer. He looked up from his reading and out to the gates, smiling when he saw Pavel was alive, if not leaning on Cassandra heavily and looking downright exhausted. He waved at him as they passed and he got a triumphant smile in return.

The celebrations began a couple of hours later. Music, food, drinks, dancing- the atmosphere was happy and relieved and the clouds swirled above, but the Breach was gone. Dorian didn’t join in, knowing he wouldn’t be welcome in it.

He’d gone and offered his power to the group of mages helping Pavel close the hole in the sky, and they’d chased him off.

“We don’t trust you not to meddle,” one said.

“He’s from Tevinter, he’ll probably use blood magic to make the Inquisitor a Thrall at the last second and then we’d all be doomed!” Another practically stage-whispered to their neighbor.

He’d argued weakly, trying to convince them he wouldn’t hurt his friend, that he wanted the Breach gone as much as they did, but they wouldn’t listen. Clearly, the elf was rubbing off on him for him to try at all. He looked down from his seat on the rise just above the festivities and sighed heavily- he felt guilty for not trying harder. This is what he’d joined the Inquisition to do, after all, and he’d missed a chance to not only do what he’d wanted to from the start, but also to back his friend up in such a trying time. All because of some stubbornly suspicious southern mages who didn’t even know him.

 

* * *

 

Dorian had been brooding over that and glaring blankly at his book when Pavel found him. “As promised, I’m not dead,” the elf joked in greeting, easy smile on his face until he saw the other mage’s expression. “Dorian? What happened?”

The Tevinter man shook his head, “nothing, I’m just very engrossed in this book,” he lied. This was a happy time, and Pavel didn’t need his foul mood getting in the way of his happiness.

Pavel sat on a barrel beside Dorian heavily and frowned at him, “bullshit. Talk to me, friend. And don’t worry about spoiling my mood, I won’t be any happier worrying about you.”

Dorian cursed and glared indignantly at the elf, “you don’t need my woes on your mind, you should be down there with the others.”

Pavel rolled his eyes, “so should you. This is a victory for all of us.”

“I wasn’t there to help.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to get the mage’s support without you.”

Dorian scoffed, and Pavel gave him a look. They stared one another down for a moment before the taller man relented. He wasn’t getting out of this.

“Fine. The mages wouldn’t let me come along, and I feel like someone pissed in my wine because it kept me from doing what I came here to do in the first place,” he spat out, “they don’t want me down there with them anyways, they’d case em off and spit at my heels on the way out!”

Pavel looked angry, legitimately angry- a rare sight indeed- and Dorian regretted saying anything, “they did what?” He stood and began to pace in front of Dorian, “they don’t have the right! Tell me you at least fought them on it, went to one of my advisors?”

“I argued with them, but one can only take so much degradation straight to their face before they stop trying to claim against all of it.”

The elf glared down at the festivities with venom in his eyes and the tension in his shoulders that meant he could very well start spitting fireballs given enough of an excuse.

Dorian, while justifiably miffed, didn’t wish harm upon the ignorant for their mistakes. It wasn’t like their assumptions weren’t supported by centuries of disgusting behavior by his homeland. He took a deep breath to calm himself and gently grabbed the elf’s wrist, “Pavel, this isn’t worth you getting so upset over. I should have expected as much from them; I’ll get over it soon enough.” He assured the elf, “besides, you still need me to run about like a chicken with it’s head cut off with you all over the place to seal rifts and restore order and all that, right? I’ll stick around for that, if you’ll have me.”

Pavel looked conflicted for a moment before settling on an emotion and stepping toward Dorian with an earnest expression, “like you have to ask either of those questions. I’d be sad to see you leave, Dorian. There’s nothing I like better than running about Thedas killing demons with you. I mean- the others are there, too, but it wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t there, yeah?”

Dorian smirked. Flirting was decidedly better than nearly setting ignorant people on fire, “mm, it wouldn’t, would it? Who else is going to enjoy the view one gets from following you about?”

Pavel barked out a laugh, “I’ve heard some of the women talk.”

“Oh?” Dorian stood, mere inches apart from the other man, voice low, “am I supposed to be jealous? They don’t get to see you in your element, climbing things and twirling a staff and breathless after battle, not unlike after a good-”

Sirens interrupted him and they both jumped, turning towards the sound. Cullen was running up from the gates, looking about frantically. Pavel and Dorian shared a look before hopping down from the stone rise and running to ask what was going on. Whispering shameful things into Lavellan’s ear would have to wait.

 

* * *

 

Pavel was beyond exhausted now. A couple hours of rest after nearly passing out closing the Breach was not enough to fuel him through all of this running about and fighting and setting up trebuchets, but there was still much to do. Cole, a boy in a ridiculous hat, was welcome help as he helped the Chancellor get as many people out of Haven to relative safety as fast as possible. There was a dragon outside waiting for him to poke his nose out to drag him out by it and eat him and templars fucked on red Lyrium killing so, so many innocent people and soldiers who’d been either planning to keep helping until the Inquisition wasn’t needed, or to go home now that the Breach was closed.

“What of your escape?” Cullen asked as people filed out under the Chancellor’s guidance.

Pavel looked away and said nothing, there was no escape from this for him. “Just get them out, Cullen.”

The commander hesitated before sighing, “yes, Heral- ... Lavellan.”

Dorian, Cassandra, and Bull were at his side soon after that, refusing to let him do it alone. Bull wanted to kill the dragon, Dorian and Cassandra insisted he’d need them to cover his back.

He didn’t have time or energy to argue, and led the way out into the chaos.

 

* * *

 

Dorian looked back as he fled the dragon, Pavel had fallen, and they made eye contact as he lifted his head to get up. The look on the elf’s face was enough to convince him to keep going. His friend had looked terrified and despondent, but had mustered the will to give him a pleading look and mouth “go”. He didn’t want to leave him for dead, but he didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if he didn’t heed his begging for him to save his own arse.

He ran for all he was worth to the Chantry with the two warriors just ahead of him, catching up with the others quickly as they bolted at top-speed for their lives.

As they caught their breath, there was a crash, the rushing of snow, and a screech, and they had to speed up again to avoid being buried in the snow with the rest of Haven’s ruins. Dorian winced at the sound of rushing snow and crashing of buildings being utterly demolished and a weight settled in his stomach with the certainty that Pavel Lavellan was dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must reiterate. There will be no smut, but the flirting will get raunchy and it will be implied. I may or may not delve into the romance dialogues that happen before and after the steamy stuff, but otherwise there's not going to be anything too crazy.
> 
> EDIT: I have added a Pseud that's a bit more personal (if you wanna call it that) and moved all of my works over to it. Otherwise, nothing's changed and nothing awful has happened. I'm gonna put Chapter 4 up tomorrow to make up for any confusion this has called. if you have any questions, feel free to contact me!


	4. Too Cold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian sets out with Cullen and Cassandra to find his dear friend. Pavel almost loses his beloved scarf and a few fingers, but Dorian forces the others to let him save both for his friend. After that, reality crashes down and it's too heavy for him to hold without a good cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest I dunno what I'm doing with the chapter titles. And summaries are a weak point for me. Also, in case you haven't noticed, my writing tends to be fairly dialogue heavy, especially in future chapters.

The moment Cullen rounded up the Inner Circle and other advisors to conduct a search for any trace of Pavel was the moment Dorian was determined to at least find that blasted scarf to send back to his clan with the letter of the Inquisition’s condolences. He shoved any hope of finding the elf alive down, and did the same for any thoughts of finding a body to bury, as they set out.

Cullen, Cassandra, and himself along with a few scouts hiked for hours, combing the slopes and dips in the terrain for Lavellan.

He’d been a ways back when he heard Cullen shout “there he is!” and Cassandra’s reply of “thank the Maker!”, but he did not miss the sight of Pavel nearly making it to the crest of the snow drift before collapsing. The scarf on his head slipped free in the wind, and the Tevinter mage went after it without much thought. His heart soared- his friend was alive! But he would not be very happy to wake up and find his good luck charm gone- lost to the snow forever.

The cloth sailed into a drift as he had almost caught up with it with a thump. The mage dug through the icy powder until his hands wrapped around it. He yanked it out of the snow triumphantly and ran back to the group as Cullen scooped the elf into his arms, wrapped up in his hideous furry coat. As Dorian got closer, he saw his friend had blue lips and fingers and slowed for a moment, looking at the scarf for a moment before stopping Cullen for a brief moment.

“What- Dorian, you ran off for that? What’s a scarf going to help?” the commander asked incredulously.

“It’s important to him, and here, I warmed it with magic. If we don’t get his hands warmed up soon, he’ll lose his fingers,” the mage explained, fumbling with the fabric to wrap it’s warmth around stiff digits. No one stopped him, but as soon as he was done, they were racing back to the camp to get him to a healer and some real heat.

 

* * *

 

Once they got back to the camp, he was told to go, but stood his ground this time. He’d been forced to leave Pavel to fend for himself (well, not really, but that wasn’t his point) once already, and he would throw a fit right this minute if it meant he could stay and help at least once today.

“Dorian,” Cullen urged in a final attempt, “you said yourself you’re no good as a healer-”

“No, commander,” Dorian snapped, “I’m not, but I can help get him warm. I’m not going to sit by while he might die for the third time today. Not even he could convince me to leave.”

They gave up and allowed him to- under careful watch and instruction, slowly get blood flow back into the elf’s extremities so he didn’t lose any of them to frostbite. Once there was some kind of color back in his face, he gently tucked the man’s beloved scarf into his hands and left.

He found a private spot- as private as any spot in this crowded, slap-dash camp could get- and felt the weight of the past few hours settle over him. So many people were dead and so much destroyed, but not only that, the mage had let his emotions run away with him. He buried his face in his hands and took a shaky breath. Yesterday was too late to resolve to not become too attached. He was already there, and there was no denying it with what had happened that day.

Dorian could not ignore the fact that he was willing to follow Pavel into certain death. Couldn’t ignore the heavy feeling in his chest and the feeling of his skull clamping around his head in panic and loss when he’d been sure Pavel was dead. There was the frantic feeling to find that fucking scarf because the elf would miss it, and the wave of relief when he was found alive. Not to mention the panic that rose in his chest at the thought of having to leave his side until he was sure that Pavel was going to be okay, that he wasn’t at risk of death or losing toes or anything. The anxiety of letting him out of his sight until he wasn’t blue about the edges wasn’t something he could brush off with a joke.

The mage curled in on himself where he sat and cried. Oh, maker, he wasn’t only attached, but he had a crush. It wasn’t just that he wanted to support his friend in his endeavors and maybe shag on occasion, but he wanted romance- of all things! Romance when either one of them could be snatched up by that damned dragon at any time, or any number of other things. How cruel he was to not only himself, but Pavel, with this. He couldn’t possibly pursue this, it could only end in heartbreak for one or both of them. not to mention that with Dorian’s reputation being what it was, the elf was too important for him to get involved with at all. Their friendship was pushing the limits already, and the masses’ opinion of him was far more important than Dorian’s own feelings here.

As much was he adored his homeland and wanted to help it rise out of the pit it had been digging itself into for ages, Dorian despised what it was now doing to his love life. He wouldn’t be able to have Pavel even if he wasn’t from Tevinter anyways, he reasoned bitterly. Lavellan would still be his superior and would still have too much to do to spare him any for fucking romance. At least then, he thought, he wouldn’t be tarnishing his fragile reputation by breathing the same air.

He let himself cry for a long time, figuring he deserved a moment to indulge in self pity after everything that had happened today. No one would ask- they’d just figure he was mourning what happened at Haven. The mge eventually cried himself dry of tears and disposed of the evidence before finding somewhere to sleep and collapsing there until he was likely kicked awake to travel with the group to wherever they decided.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't see my edited notes in the last chapter, then here's the gist:
> 
> I made a new Pseud for myself. That's all. DatatheRoast is an old screen name and I've kinda moved on from it for the most part. Nothing too crazy, promise!


	5. The Thaw and the Trek

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian can't seem to find anything to help with in a camp full of refugees, injured people, and scrambling Inquisition officers. Pavel, now awake, enlists him to help him scout ahead. Once settled in Skyhold, after several days of Dorian only hearing about how he's making his friend look bad, the elf finds him and the Altus mage makes one final attempt to keep him at an arm's length.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In celebration of me conquering my writer's block in trying to write Chapter 10 (and finalize this for posting), I'm posting it a day early.
> 
> The co-owner of this account, my dear friend Scarlet, was very helpful in getting me to decide on keeping the end as-is. Enjoy your small cliffhanger until Saturday.

Dorian woke up the next morning freezing cold. He sat up slowly and rubbed heat back into his body, fire magic helping to an extent, though nothing could be expected to take care of this bone-deep cold until they found somewhere to settle for longer than a night or two.

The mage hunted down some breakfast and attempted to help around camp- though it seemed nobody particularly wanted his help with anything. He felt rather useless as he wandered aimlessly, trying to keep from freezing to death and still hopelessly looking for something to do with himself.

A good chunk into the morning, he saw Pavel up and about. Not only that, but seemingly unbusy for the time being. Dorian leapt at the chance to catch a moment with him, hurrying through throngs of people going this way and that to get to the Herald

“Are you alright?” he asked in way of greeting, not bothering to mask his worry. Lavellan would pick up on it regardless.

The elf nodded, reassuring smile set back in his rightful place on his no-longer-blue lips “I’m… Alright.”

“Are you sure?” Dorian persisted, “how are you feeling?”

“Stiff and tired, but I’ll live. I was rather happy to wake up with my mother’s scarf in my hand, I could have sworn it flew off my head when I collapsed,” Pavel smiled, tugging the scarf up from it’s new, and likely temporary, home around his neck and over his chin to combat the cold.

The Tevinter man smiled almost sheepishly, “I- yes. Well, I saw it fly off into a snowbank and I knew you’d miss it so I went and got it.”

“I-” the elf looked taken aback, surprised “-thank you, Dorian. That means quite a lot to me. I was told that you also insisted on helping the healers when they brought me back here- is that true?”

Dorian felt himself blush in embarrassment that he’d likely heard of the fuss he’d put up about it, “yes, it is. I must be honest, I cannot bear the thought of you dead, so I just had to make sure I could do something to keep you alive and well.”

Pavel smiled warmly at him, “thank you. I’m sorry for causing you any distress on the matter. How about you stick with me while we scout out a place to re-establish the Inquisition? That will keep people from harassing you. As payment for your help in keeping not only alive, but in good spirits.”

“You don’t have to do that,” the Tevinter man protested immediately, “I did those things for you, you don’t have to repay me for anything. Besides, I can handle a few people pestering me for my homelands shortcomings. I’m used to it.”

The elf shook his head, “fine then, this is something I want to do for you because we’re friends- not just because I feel I owe you for your concern for my wellbeing. Just because you can put up with it, doesn’t mean you should. Besides, it would be terribly boring without you.”

Dorian sighed internally, he wasn’t going to win this one, was he? He decided to relent to this with grace, “flattery- I like it! Fine, then, can’t have you nearly dying again out of boredom.”

Pavel chuckled a bit uncomfortably and smiled, “good, then. Get your things together- we leave in an hour to scout ahead. We’ll backtrack after a bit to meet the others as they start heading out after us.”

The taller man winced inwardly and shot Pavel an apologetic look. He’d apologize for that tasteless joke later when it was a better time to have one of their little heart-to-hearts that seemed to be a reoccurring thing now.

* * *

Pavel was swept away as soon as they reached Skyhold, and no one wasted any time on waiting to run their mouths. It was as he’d been fearing the whole time: their friendship was having a most unpleasant affect on the elf’s reputation. He cursed in Tevene under his breath, this is not what he wanted.

Unfortunately, Lavellan found him as soon as he’d gotten a free moment. Dorian had established himself in a nook in the library in the days since they’d arrived. He’d been dreading this conversation, and was both surprised and at the same time wasn’t that it had taken the elf this long to slip away.

“Dorian! There you are! I’m sorry I haven’t been able to check in, I got caught up in everything going on around here,” the elf looked at the other mage’s little domain and smiled. “Though I suppose my worry of people getting at you too bad was misplaced, you’ve settled in quite well from the looks of things.”

Dorian forced a smile in return, “to be quite honest, Lavellan, I’m a bit more worried about you. Are you sure you wish to cling to our friendship so much? People have been talking- and it has been nothing good, I assure you. It would be far better for your reputation if we were to go back to having a professional relationship rather than platonic.”

Pavel scowled, “of course I’m sure!” He nearly scoffed in indignance, “I care about you, Dorian, I’m not going to stop just because my reputation is a little worse off because of it. You are my friend and we have a solid bond, I like to think. I do not care for their opinions of my personal relations- they haven’t the right to tell me who I can and cannot enjoy the company of.”

Dorian shook his head, “you should care what they think. And what they think is that I’m corrupting you and manipulating you.”

“But you’re not.”

“They don’t care, Lavellan.”

“And nor do I!” Pavel threw his arms up and stepped closer to Dorian, “I understand your concern, and that where you are from that reputation is everything, but I simply do not care.”

“You should,” the Tevinter man pointed out.

The elf shook his head and huffed out a breath in frustration before stepping forward once more, taking Dorian’s face in his hands, and kissing him firmly. It was quick and awkward, but it made Dorian’s heart do that thing it did when someone he was interested in showed any sort of reciprocation for his feelings. Pavel didn’t step away, resting his forehead on Dorian’s and staring into his eyes with an intensity the shorter man usually reserved for battle.

“I am not going anywhere, Dorian.”


	6. Anxious Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian breaks down in frustration and anxiety with and for the Inquisitor. This time, Pavel is there to comfort him, which both stokes the fires and douses them at the same time.

“And why not?” Dorian blurted out, confused. It usually wasn’t even him that had to point out the poor effects of his actions on one’s reputation. For him to have to not only be that person, but to have to insist? And, even more confusing, for the other person to ignore his warnings and stubbornly refuse to budge on the matter?

All of it was so alien to him that it made his head spin. “I just told you,” Pavel chuckled, not helping Dorian sort any of this out in his head whatsoever, as he stepped back.

“Yes, but why? Why do you care so much for me when I can do nothing but bring harm to your good standing with your followers?” His voice was desperate and confused, the only control he had over himself here was to keep his voice down so no one had to hear him like this.

The elf gave him a disbelieving look, “is it really so hard to comprehend?”

“By the Maker, yes, it is!” The mage was well aware he was working himself up far too much, but he blamed his bottle up feelings for the insufferable man before him for that. No one ever did this back home. It was all just one-night-stands to get at his parents or let out frustration and getting out before they were caught. Romance didn’t exist in Tevinter.

Pavel searched his face and bit his lip, brows furrowed in concern. “Meet me in my chambers in a few minutes. I doubt you want anyone here to see you like this.”

Dorian shook his head, “why?”

“I want to understand what you’re saying, and if you’re going to break down, the last thing you need is to be self-conscious about an audience,” the elf explained, “if you like.”

His friend left him to either collect himself or take him up on his offer, and he took a couple of minutes to get his bearings and think before deciding that this was a perfect chance to try and convince the elf it was a bad idea to keep him so close.

He headed down to the main hall and was stopped by a messenger. He took their letter and opened it when he saw it was from Tevinter. Pavel forgotten for the moment, he read it and forced himself to get to his destination before anyone had to see him lose any of his composure. Felix was dead. That was expected, but the loss of his old friend made his heart sink, but he’d gone and boasted of Lavellan to the Magisterium. He smiled sadly and took a deep breath. leave it to Felix to keep his word, even on death’s front porch.

He was pulled out of his thoughts and the letter when the door to the Inquisitor’s inner chambers opened and the elf, looking somewhat disappointed. His expression changed when he saw Dorian, and his eyes flickered to the letter in his hand questioningly.

“Felix is dead. Blight caught up with him,” Dorian explained, “he kept good on his word, though. He gave you a shining rapport to the whole Magisterium.”

“Oh,” the elf smiled sadly, “I wish I could have thanked him.” He looked at Dorian with that typical- though no less confusing by now- concerned expression, “are you alright?”

The taller man shrugged, “it was expected, so that softens the blow a bit.”

Lavellan frowned slightly and guided him to move up to his quarters proper with a gentle hand on his arm. He sat Dorian down on the couch by the stairs and shut the doors and windows while the other mage thought of where to start. Pavel sat down beside him silently, a respectable distance between them, and waited for him to start.

He was silent himself for a while- did he continue on with Felix or did he go back to what they were talking about before? He decided to keep on the topic at hand for now, and quiet words were exchanged for a short while. It was nice to be able to talk about a part of his past that he didn’t hate. The time before Alexius had gone and lost himself had been considerably less awful than what had been before it. Pavel asked if he and Felix had been together- out of concern that he was mourning a lover, of course- but it made Dorian both laugh and cringe at the same time. No, Felix had been a friend and he’d had no interest in the boy as anything else.

They changed topics back to their discussion in the library. Dorian didn’t want to explain the real reason why it was so hard to understand why Pavel insisted on being there for him, so he fronted his family issues with politics. The elf left it alone well enough, but still stubbornly insisted that he rather didn’t care if people didn’t like Dorian.

“I like you, and the opinions of those who don’t know you don’t matter to me,” Pavel said firmly, “you have been nothing but kind to me, and that speaks far above any rumors they might come up with.”

Dorian’s frustration overflowed now. “You don’t understand, still!” He cried out, “I am no good for you, Lavellan. My presence at your side can only bring you grief!”

Pavel looked taken aback by the outburst, “Dorian, you’ve helped keep me alive, you’ve done your best to help not only me but the Inquisition as a whole despite everyone getting in your way. if anything, all of us have been causing you grief.”

Dorian broke down then. He was confused and Pavel didn’t understand still, even though he’s told him all he felt comfortable saying. The problem was that he liked Pavel well beyond reason and couldn’t do anything except choke it down and wish for it to stop. He liked the elf too much to risk his good standing with the entire world for the sake of his own feelings. He cried once more about it, over the frustration and confusion of how and why the man beside him was doing all of this for him.

No one had ever genuinely cared for Dorian like Pavel does for everyone, and he didn’t know what to do with it but sob because he’d never been allowed to before now. He cried harder when Pavel tentatively started to rub his back. He leaned into the contact- leaned over onto the elf, more accurately.

Dorian came back to himself to find that he’d been pressed to Pavel’s chest, a hand running through his hair as he calmed down. He had ended up in the elf’s lap somewhere along the line- he didn’t remember much outside of too many emotions making his head and chest hurt. He was still crying, but he was settling down now and the wherewithal to feel bad about suddenly breaking down on his friend.

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, voice rough, as he pulled away.

“Don’t apologize, Dorian,” Pavel smiled at him easily as ever.

“No, no… Maker, what you must think of me now. Nothing good, I’m sure,” he stood up and fixed his robes, “I’ll take my leave before you chase me out.”

The Dalish man reached out and grabbed his wrist, “I’m not going to chase you out, Dorian.” He stood up and turned him around to face him, taking hold of his face and forcing him to look him in the eye. “I meant it when I said I wasn’t going anywhere. A breakdown isn’t going to change that.”

Dorian felt like he could cry more, out of both relief and further frustration, but instead he sighed and relented to the other man’s stubbornness for now. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t appreciate all of this. He relaxed and nodded, “alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you if this comes back to bite you in the arse.”

Pavel laughed and gave him this look of fondness before sending him reeling again, “may I kiss you again? I rather enjoyed doing it the last time.”

“I... yes?” Dorian said, unable to help himself. He reciprocated the kiss properly this time, and then Pavel broke away, he had to ask, “not that it’s unappreciated, but what’s the kissing for, exactly?”

Lavellan looked baffled before letting out something akin to a giggle, “is it not obvious? What reason is there for kissing other than some kind of affection?”

“I… suppose there isn’t much of one, really. But what sort of affection is involved here, Lavellan?”

“A romantic sort,” Pavel said without hesitation, hands finally sliding down from Dorian’s face in a gentle caress. “If that pleases you.”

“It does,” the Altus mage blurted with but a fraction of his usual tact.

“I’m glad,” Pavel smiled warmly, eyes swimming in all that aforementioned affection.

Maker, what had Dorian gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're not together yet. that comes in like four chapters.
> 
> This would have been up earlier but my day got consumed by cleaning, singing, errands, and playing the game so I don't hit a wall in a few days.


	7. None of Anyone's Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pavel's tired and that doesn't help him keep a reign on his temper when his advisors raise their concerns for Dorian's effect on his reputation. In his stubbornness, he storms off and Mother Giselle finds him with a letter that will not make his friend happy to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this chapter very much. Unfortunately, my dissatisfaction with the level of recognition the Inquisitor's relationship with Dorian (especially early on) has lead me to this. Cullen and Dorian aren't friends yet here, either, so don't be surprised when you find he's not the "voice of reason" or anything.
> 
> Anyways. Hope you guys had a good Monday. Mine was rather busy. Enjoy your update~

Pavel had woken up that morning and barely managed to drag himself out of bed. It showed somewhat, his hair still somewhat of a mess and his mother’s scarf lowered to his neck from it’s usual perch on his head. He’d woken up with a cry and was surprised when no one came running to check on him. He hadn’t gone back to sleep easily, and had lain there for hours, stuck in his own thoughts until he drifted off for but an hour or so before a crow had been sent to rouse him out of bed. He almost argue with the bird, but he had an important meeting soon enough that he’d have to get up right then and there if he wanted to get some breakfast in before hand.

He walked into the war room and got various looks from his advisors. Cullen looked disapproving before concerned and then back to disapproving, Leliana just looked unsure, and Josephine looked worried.

“What’s going on?” He asked as he approached the table.

Cullen opened his mouth, but Leliana put a hand up to stop him, “we know about your meeting with Dorian in your quarters yesterday.”

“Ah,” Pavel frowned, “I was worried he would break down so I invited him in for some privacy.”

“You must know how that looks to everyone else, Inquisitor,” Josephine pointed out.

“Dorian gave me the same lecture,” Lavellan put his hands up in surrender, “my sentiments remain the same- I’m not going anywhere. He’s a good man, it’s not my fault no one else seems to care enough to get to know him instead of sticking stereotypes to him.” He looked at Cullen and the disapproval that was still on his face, “I’m bedraggled because I did not sleep well. Dorian slept in his own quarters- not that my love life is anyone’s business.”

“People will make it their business, Inquisitor,” Josephine warned.

Pavel ignored her words, pulling up ink, quills, and papers, “luckily for us, my lack of sleep was due to nightmares. My memory’s been jogged on a few things.”

Leliana reached across and took the writing utensils from the elf, “you cannot brush the public’s opinion on such things. Your reputation is important, if you are not careful, no one will take us seriously.”

“I am not having this conversation in the state I’m in now,” Pavel ground out between clenched teeth. “There is Corypheus to worry about.”

“And no one is going to help us deal with him if you, the face and leader of the Inquisition, do not make us look like a worthy cause,” Josephine urged.

“And me finding some kind of happiness in this mess with whomever I please is somehow going to make no one want to deal with us?” Pavel spat out, beyond angry. He turned and headed for the door, “I will come back later, and I don’t want to talk about this further. I want to finish up my recollection of Haven, like we planned.”

“Inquisitor, this is a problem we must address-” Cullen called after him, but the mage turned around with his hands aflame.

“Dorian is not a problem he’s a person and I will not have anyone, especially not my own advisors, treating him as such,” Pavel snapped before he stormed out of the room.

 

* * *

 

Mother Giselle found him perched in a tree in the garden later, calling up to him as he crouched there with his mother’s scarf in his hand, pressed to his lips. He’d been this way for a while now, waiting out the anger as it retreated and built up again gradually shrinking waves. He’d started by muttering his frustrations into it, then whispering, then mouthing his words and eventually just staring off into space as he calmed down. It wasn’t terribly often that he got like this, but when he lost his temper, it took quite an effort to come out of it.

“Inquisitor, is it a bad time?” The Chantry Mother called up to him. His eyes flicked down to her and he stared blankly for a moment before blinking and shaking his head.

“No, apologies, Mother Giselle,” he said, climbing down to see what she wanted. He wasn’t terribly fond of her, but she never asked for too terribly much from him, so he could see what she needed. So long as she didn’t start talking to him about Andraste while he had his own beliefs quite literally written all over his face again, this would be fine. “What is it you need?”

“Well, for one, your advisors wish to know when you would like to meet with them again,” she said, “I asked them where you were.”

“Oh,” Pavel frowned, “half an hour… What else?”

“I have a letter concerning your Tevinter friend. From his family,” she said, “I believe they are trying to reach out, but the boy is not fond of me. You, however… I figured you would have an easier time of handling this than I.”

The elf took the letter she presented then, reading it over and shaking his head, “I’m not going to trick Dorian into meeting with with this “family retainer”, Mother.”

“I think it may be for the best if he did not know, but I suppose that if you think he would go even if he knew… That is the important part,” the woman said, bowing as she stepped away, “please consider it, Inquisitor. Good day. I will tell your advisors you wish to meet them in half an hour.”

Pavel shook his head and rubbed at his temples before heading off to his chambers. He still looked like a mess, and he wanted to fix that before addressing memories of Haven and the issue of Dorian’s family. He would feel better afterwards, anyways, and hopefully look less tired.

 

* * *

 

The second meeting with his advisors that day went much better than the first. None of them pushed the issue further and he walked out of the war room feeling fulfilled, but a bit shaky. He patted the letter from Dorian’s father in his pocket and made his way up the stairs to find the other mage. He found him leaning on the railing and staring off into space, like he was in deep thought, and bit his lip briefly. He didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts with something that would make him upset.

“Dorian,” he blurted out before he could convince himself to hold off on this for any longer. “I have a letter for you.”

“Ooh! Is it a naughty letter? I do enjoy those,” the Tevinter man beamed.

Pavel shook his head and it all went downhill from there.

Well, at least Dorian was willing to face the family retainer. The Inquisitor agreed to come with him if only to make sure he didn’t do anything reckless and that he wasn’t forced into anything. He felt like maybe it wasn’t his place to go with him to something so private, but Dorian looked so close to being openly terrified that he’d throw those thoughts to the wind. He’d back him up in this, and only involve himself where absolutely necessary.

At least afterwords Dorian could lean on him if he needed to. They could run about and do some other business in the Hinterlands, too. Blow off steam with work and emotional support where needed. He wasn’t entirely sure what to expect at this meeting, and he could only hope to be even remotely prepared to help Dorian through it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pavel's actually has a bit of a temper if he's pestered with the same thing enough. He takes a while to cool off, I know.


	8. Unhappy Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian meets his father and Pavel tries to find the happy middle-ground between being there in case he's needed and trying to to eavesdrop on private affairs. Dorian takes full advantage of the fact that he has someone to fall back on later on, and it ends in the elf utterly spoiling him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're hearing far-off raptor screeching, that's probably me. This is quickly catching up with my document but I'm having trouble writing the past week and am hoping beyond hope that I don't hat a wall where I don't write for several months.
> 
> It's Wednesday, have some cute gay friends that are nice to each other and cry a lot.

Dorian was already panicking, and he’d only just opened the door a couple of moments ago. His father was there himself, no family retainer, no thugs to mug him. Pavel shooed their companions out of the tavern once more once he realized their strength wasn’t needed. The eld almost left himself, but Dorian had turned and given him such a desperate look that he stayed, standing just behind the Altus mage.

He and his father began to yell at one another and they broke away, Pavel came up to his side hesitantly. They were both silent for a moment before the elf spoke up. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but you’re going to regret it for the rest of your life if you leave this where it is now.”

Dorian shook his head and bit back tears, opening his mouth to argue weakly- or snap that he didn’t understand, he didn’t know- but the elf cut him off. “He’s reaching out. This might be an opportunity to talk things out. I’m not saying you should forgive him, but leaving it all like this will make it all worse.”

Dorian looked at him pleadingly, but the elf looked resolute and stubborn, and he relented. It’s not as if any of this could get any worse, and the elf was usually smarter than him when it came to emotional matters. Curiosity reared it’s ugly head, but he beat it down for now. He could ask about how the Dalish elf with a family who actually cared about one another knew such a thing later. For now, he supposed he should try to be the better man here and be open to his father’s words.

Pavel went across the tavern while they spoke, waiting for them to be done and giving them privacy. The elf would look over at them worriedly whenever voice would raise and Dorian would school himself and get them back on what seemed to be the best track out of a selection of completely awful ones. When they were done, Dorian felt better- somewhat. He would never forgive or reconcile with his parents, but his friend had been right. Before, he’d wanted to curl up in Pavel’s lap with a bottle of wine and drink and sleep himself to oblivion once the elf eventually gave up on him. Now, however, he just felt like crying, getting dreadfully intoxicated, and sleeping for ten hours.

Pavel crossed the tavern once Halward was gone and took him into his arms. Dorian melted into the contact without shame. This wasn’t exactly drinking and sleeping, but the effect was proving to be the same. The elf turned his head as Dorian wrapped his arms around his waist to kiss his temple gently as he ran his fingers through his hair. The others- Cassandra and Cole- came in to check on them and the Tevinter man didn’t care. He knew Cole already probably knew what was happening here, and Cassandra probably didn’t care. The woman may not care much for him, but she wasn’t rude.

“Is he going to be alright?” Cassandra asked after a moment of silence, “he is not being forced to return to Tevinter, is he?”

The concern in her voice was what made Dorian finally break down. Even Cassandra, Seeker of Truth, Right Hand of the Divine, no-nonsense woman that she was, was worried about him? Didn’t want him to be thrown back to a life he hated so much? He let out a pitiful sob and Pavel held him tighter, not letting out su much as a wheeze when Dorian did the same, crushing the air from his lungs.

“He’ll be fine, and no, he’ll be staying with us,” Pavel assured their companions.

“That is… A relief. We should leave as soon as he is able to travel,” the Seeker took hold of Cole’s arm and led him out the door with her, “we will give you some privacy. Take your time.”

* * *

On the way back to Skyhold, pavel made it known to Dorian that if he needed a private space to mull over the meeting with his father, or someone to vent to, his door would be open. The mage didn’t need to vent, he needed… something. He wasn’t sure what it was, but his feet eventually led him from his library nook and into the Inquisitor’s vacant quarters. He contemplated leaving before shaking his head and settling onto the couch and waiting, reading whatever Pavel had been before, marking the elf’s page as he went back to the start of it.

He felt better just sitting in his friend’s private quarters, and he was increasingly glad he hadn’t left upon discovering the elf wasn’t there. Pavel eventually came up the stairs, greeting him softly as he arrived.

“Have you been waiting long?”

“No,” Dorian shook his head, “I was just…”

Lavellan put a hand up and smiled in understanding. “What brings you up here?”

Dorian furrowed his brow and thought about what to start with. He didn’t want to talk about the meeting with his father- Pavel had been there for the whole thing, anyways. No, he wanted to ask about Pavel’s family. “Why did you know that I’d feel better if I didn’t leave that whole thing on such a sour note?”

Pavel smiled sadly, “my parents always told us about our grandfather and how much grief he cause mother. In the end, they’d both had a screaming match and left it at that. She always said she regretted it more than anything, and always looked so upset about it all. I… Didn’t want to see you like that. Selfish, I know.”

Dorian shook his head, “even when you’re selfish you’re looking after me.” He smiled fondly at the elf, “thank you for that.”

Pavel’s face turned pink all the way to the tips of his ears and he smiled bashfully, “you give me too much credit… Is there anything else you need? I have the next couple of hours without anything to do.”

The first of those hours was filled with Pavel telling stories of he and his siblings, one sister and one brother, both younger than him. They lounged on the couch while the elf spoke fondly of his youthful adventures. Dorian ended up curled up against him, goots kicked off, and the elf’s arm around his shoulders. The rest of the time found them asleep in that same position.

Dorian woke up lying down on the couch, a blanket and pillow pilfered from the bed to make him more comfortable. The sun was setting, casting the room in warm light as he rubbed at his eyes. He caught site of a note on the table and snatched it up, squinting at the rushed penmanship.

‘Dorian,

I was called away to a lengthy war table meeting. You wouldn’t wake up, so I tried to make you as comfortable as possible. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Thank you for listening to me babble about my family, and the nap was quite the welcome respite. I hope you are feeling better.

-Pavel’

Dorian rolled his eyes with a smile, tossing the blanket and pillow back on the bed with some effort to not leave his friend’s room a mess, fixing his hair and robes, and heading off to find some dinner before returning to his work in the library. He would have left a note, but he was fairly certain he’d see the elf the next day.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Cullen's friendship blossoms just before the events at Adamant. After returning to Skyhold, Dorian and Pavel have a serious conversation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy late Halloween. Sorry this didn't go up earlier, my weekend was obnoxiously busy.

In the time leading up to the raid on Adamant, Dorian had been beyond nervous, and Pavel beyond busy. The mage had, in his restless need to do something with himself, found comfort in Cullen, of all people. Once the former Templar relaxed, he was an easy person to be around when Pavel was otherwise occupied. The mage had been surprised that the Commander hadn’t been just as busy as the Inquisitor, but it seemed Dorian simply had good timing, showing up not long after briefings and sending Pavel to Leliana or to work on plans and do his usual scrambling about Skyhold for the day.

They two of them often played chess in the garden, chatting about nothing in particular. Dorian would flirt with him shamelessly whenever it would get him to blush in front of a passing group of ladies- some noblewomen and some their own. When asked what it was all about, he simply said he thought he’d share the adorable sight of the Commander blushing all the way up to his ears with any admirers in hopes that the man could find someone to maybe fawn over.

“You’ve assumed the position of being my wingman?” Cullen had asked, half-jokingly.

“Yes,” Dorian had responded easily.

“In the middle of a world-wide crisis?”

“Yes.”

“Only a few days before a major military operation?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Dorian laughed, “you’re such a lonely fellow, Cullen, don’t think I can’t see it. I’d pursue you myself, but seeing as I am so clearly not your type, there’s not much of a point in it, is there?”

Cullen’s embarrassed blush only proved his point, but he had enough mind to counter his words, “not to mention you’re already invested in our Inquisitor.”

Dorian had the decency to turn a similar shade of pink and sigh in defeat, “well, you’re not wrong, per-se. We’re close, yes, but involved? No.”

“You sound disappointed,” Cullen observed.

Dorian rubbed a hand down his face, “I’m not- not really. Just… Unsure.”

“Well, you have my vote,” the former Templar smiled.

“Huh? I- against who?”

“Josephine has a small thing for him, as well, but she says it’ll pass since he’s clearly not interested in her. You, on the other hand, he has an obvious interest in… And I’ll admit, getting to know you in the past few days, I have come to realize you’re a good man, and equally smitten,” Cullen said over the small table they sat at.

Dorian snorted at that and shook his head, “I… Don’t know what to say. Far be it from me to get between anyone, but if all of what you’re saying is true? Thank you, Cullen, truly.”

Cullen nodded and checked the time before starting up another game.

 

* * *

 

Adamant itself was hell.

Everything was going wrong. So few Wardens were standing down or helping them in the chaos, only increasing the amount of needless killing, the dragon from Haven was here to ruin everything for them once more, and they were all on their last legs. Injured with little energy, the pressed on. It was between another retreat attempt, somehow pushing through and succeeding, or they’d all die trying.

It was currently leaning towards option number three on that list.

Soon, however, there was a spark of hope. Clarel has sent the dragon tumbling out of the fortress and down into the depths below.

And then all at once, that hope was gone and Dorian was falling after Pavel, the dragon, and Stroud as the stone beneath his feet fell away.

He reached out for the elf mindlessly, screwing his eyes shut against a bright light.

And then everything felt rather odd- wrong, almost- and his eyes snapped open to the Fade.

The physical fade.

Naturally, in his panic, he reverted to looking at everything through a Tevinter scholar’s eyes and cracking jokes.

He almost cracked at the sight of the Nightmare, and all the things it whispered in his ears.

There was no almost about his shaking and the tears rolling down his cheeks as he waited for far too long to see Pavel follow the rest of them out.

The elf stepped out of the Fade after what felt like an eternity, closing the rift before his legs buckled. Dorian raced forward, kneeling beside him, hands hovering and unsure.

“Pavel?” He choked out, “tell me what’s wrong. Are you injured?”

The elf reached for one of Dorian’s fussing hands and clung to it, his own shaking worse than the other mages. “Don’t leave me,” he said, “I… I just need a healing potion.”

Dorian had been rationing his own, and pulled the one he had left from his belt, uncorking it and helping his friend drink. People were crowding around them now and he felt Pavel stiffen under the hand he had on his back. He snapped at the others to give him some space to breathe and they reluctantly backed off. A healer came through and attempted to take over entirely, but Pavel let out a broken sound from deep in his throat and established a death grip on Dorian’s arm. He was allowed to stay without any further question.

Once the Inquisition forces had gathered, the Inner Circle started the journey back to Skyhold. Pavel would get uneasy when Dorian, Cassandra, Hawke, or Cole went too far from him for comfort- especially Dorian. They stayed close, and the elf looked rather guilty about it, but they assured him it was fine and that they were a bit wary of straying too far from one another themselves.

It was a good five days before they returned. Camping was more of an ordeal for all of them. Nightmares were rampant with new, terrifying material. Pavel had even shamelessly requested he be able to snuggle up to someone. Hawke had been the one to take him in, everyone else either too uncomfortable with the prospect or unsure if they should agree.

Hawke was unable to continue that in Skyhold- too many judging eyes and too sudden a change in their dynamics. The Champion and the Inquisitor were too odd a pair. Dorian took up the mantle, meeting Pavel in his quarters and sitting beside him on the bed without question.

The elf, when upset, wasn’t as high-contact as Dorian. A hand held or on his back was fine, but the elf had pushed him away when he’d tried to hold him.

“I feel smothered, is all, sorry,” the Inquisitor said amidst panicked breathing.

Dorian told him not to apologize and held his hands firmly in his own as the elf broke down. He touched all of the events of Adamant, though he purposefully avoided talking about Dorian for most of it until the end.

“And I saw you fall after me, Dorian,” he said, voice broken and quiet. “And I could only think about how I’d led you to your death. You’d reached out to me even then and I felt worse. I’m so sorry, Dorian, I- you almost died because I had you with me that whole time!

“I can’t… I can’t bear the thought of you dead, or hurt- much less because of me. When we got out of the Fade I made you go first because I couldn’t stand the thought- the thought of-” Pavel shook his head and took a breath before continuing, “and I would have never been able to tell you how I feel about you, either.”

Dorian bit his lip and looked at the floor, “I thought the same when you hadn’t walked out of the Fade just after us. I thought ‘this is it, this is where I finally lose him- and he doesn’t even know how much I care for him’. I was so scared, Pavel.”

The elf looked up at him dumbfounded for a moment, “as much as I’d like to have this conversation, we should calm down,” he pointed out weakly.

Dorian agreed with a nod of his head and they separated for a moment to collect themselves. What they were about to discuss shouldn’t be done with either of them in such a state.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're gonna be all romantic and shit by the end of the next chapter.


	10. Tired and Distraught

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pavel and Dorian are too tired to be civil when they're both irritated about the Tevinter man's birthright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the slower updates. Been busy. Computer problems keep happening. Fun times.

They both sat in silence for a long time before, neither certain on how to broach the subject. Pavel eventually opened his mouth, brow furrowed as if he was unsure of what he was about to say.

“I… I know you just said… But back in Redcliffe you made it fairly clear that you’re not used to… Affection, in this sort of thing,” the elf said awkwardly, obviously struggling to not offend Dorian.

His efforts succeeded for the most part, but the Tevinter man still winced, “yes, you’re right. Back home, anything between two people of the same sex is fleeting, only for a moment of pleasure and escape.” He explained, but quickly backtracked- he had to let the elf know he was serious when he said he cared about him, “but I don’t want it to be like that if it doesn’t have to be.”

“I don’t want to force you to do anything you’re not prepared to do, Dorian,” Pavel said, expression sad but conveying that he was being entirely genuine with his words.

“I want to try,” Dorian insisted. He had the chance to have something more than just a quick lay. A chance for something that could last and be so much better in the long run, and he wanted so desperately to take it. “Dammit,” he huffed, deciding to just out and say what he wanted- because he could and the man before him would listen, “I want a relationship.”

Pavel smiled at him, warm and affectionate, “I’d like that.”

Dorian grinned, his chest feeling lighter- not that he’d noticed the weight until it was gone- and did what he’d been wanting to since he saw the elf. He tangled one hand in long black hair, soft to the touch, and placed the other on his waist, and kissed him firmly. The Dalish man melted into it with a sigh and soon the Altus mage had a lap full of a warm body. Hands moved, arms around Pavel’s waist and hands on Dorian’s face, chests pressed together.

“You know,” Dorian said when their lips parted and foreheads pressed together in their stead, “I had quite the time trying not to kiss you when you walked out of the Fade. Waiting felt like an eternity.”

“I’m sorry,” Pavel smiled sheepishly.

Dorian shook his head and pulled away, “don’t be. You’re here now. Just… Do be careful, won’t you?”

Pavel nodded and yawned, climbing out of his newfound-lover’s lap, “It’s getting late…”

The Tevinter man stood and straightened his clothes, “I should leave you to sleep, then. I will see you tomorrow?”

Pavel looked as though he was going to offer that Dorian stay the night, but seemed to be about as comfortable with the thought as he was- which was not very- and stood to walk him to the door. They parted with a brief kiss and syrupy smiles that made Dorian feel sick with affection as he retired.

 

* * *

 

Dorian watched Pavel storm off, and ran his hands over his face with a sigh. Three days of less-than-ideal sleep had left them both irritable, and now He’d gone and made his lover angry. Fine, let him be angry, he thought. He didn’t know how to deal with things like this in a relationship. If they were still friends, it may be easier for him to accept a favor, though he’d still put up a fight for one of this magnitude, but now that they were romantically involved? He didn’t know if he had to return it or if Pavel would expect anything for it.

He probably wouldn’t, but that didn’t stop Dorian from angsting over social expectations. He couldn't fuck this up, especially not this early, the masses- not to mention the rest of the Inner Circle and the Inquisitor’s beloved advisors- would maul him for it. He sat in his chair heavily with a sigh. He’d calm down and then go ask Josephine- wait, no… Cullen, or Leliana. He didn’t want to rub salt in the wound with their Lady Embassador, that would be undue.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t get the chance. It was either one or both of them was busy or not present at any given point or he’d psyche himself out of asking the question. Pavel took them off to Val Royeaux and he had a bad feeling that the elf was going to just jump right to the chase, but he instead ended up shopping for armor, weapons, and things for skyhold.

Dorian had foolishly let himself relax when his lover has approached the smarmy bastard at the tail; end of their errands.

“This is what all this was about?” Dorian hissed.

Ponchard had the gall to try and soothe him, and Pavel simply ignored all of the Alus mage’s protests as he arranged to have his amulet returned in exchange for a bunch of political bullshit.

Dorian made one final protest and Ponchard opened his grotesque mouth once more, “you should allow your friend to help you, Messere, you will not get your beloved amulet back otherwise.”

“He’s not my friend, he’s-” he stopped himself in the middle of biting the merchant’s head off with a glance at Pavel, who looked slightly hurt, then challenging- daring him to just shout their relationship status in the middle of the nexus of Gossip. “Nevermind what he is! Lavellan, I do not want to be in your debt.”

The elf scowled and stepped forward to shake hands with Ponchard, “it’s a deal. I’ll send a letter ahead of us and have the matter seen to immediately.”

Ponchard thanked him for his business and Dorian regretted every venomous word that came out of his mouth as they walked away.

 

* * *

 

Three days later, one day back at Skyhold, and Pavel came up the stairs looking half-asleep on his feet, and holding a package. Dorian sighed and stood. He was grateful for this, he just didn’t know how to handle all of this.

“Here’s your amulet, Dorian,” the elf handed him the package, voice soft but warning, like if the taller man was to try and reject it now, he’d probably singe his hair.

Dorian sighed and took the package, “and now I am in your debt, this is precisely what I didn’t want-”

“Who said I wanted anything in return?” Pavel snapped, cutting him off, “Dorian, I did this for you, because I care and you seemed so upset that you couldn’t get it back.”

“I was going to get it back myself!”

“He wasn’t going to let you.”

“I would have found a way-”

“Dorian, stop!” Pavel cried out, shrinking under the attention it drew. Dorian winced and backed away slightly, forcing the elf to school his demeanor, “please, I don’t wish to fight with you. I only wanted to help you get something important back. I don’t ask for anything in return but a thank you.”

Dorian bit his lip and took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, Pavel.” He smiled at his lover apologetically, “thank you. I am truly grateful, it’s just hard to untrain the expectation of ulterior motives.”

Pavel smiled back briefly before a yawn took him over and he rubbed at his eyes, “I think being obnoxiously tired doesn’t help either of us.”

Dorian chuckled, “yes, you’re right… Though, the Fade is an unforgiving place- as you well know.”

Pavel nodded, his smile sad and his eyes tired, “I have a possible remedy, if you’re willing.”

Dorian nodded. If it got him sleep, even if it was something he wasn’t used to, he was up for it at this point. The elf invited him to meet him in his quarters after dinner and spend the night with him, and he promised to do as such.

 

* * *

 

Pavel woke with the sun, the first rays through the window coaxing him back into the waking world. He opened his eyes opened and he smiled softly at the man still snuggled up to him. Of course he wasn’t awake yet, he figure that since the man wasn’t required to be an early riser to get to war table meetings just after the crack of dawn, and wasn’t used to the Dalish habits of sleeping under the stars. He shifted slightly, hoping to not rouse his lover from sleep, deciding that he could be a little later than usual this morning and tucking the other mage’s head under his chin.

Dorian let out a tired grumble and a sigh and Pavel cursed silently. Of course the Tevinter man was a light sleeper. The elf let out a quiet yawn and moved his head to kiss Dorian’s bed head. The mage stiffened and he drew away quickly- had he done something wrong? Dorian looked at him in mild alarm for a moment before relaxing and flopping over onto his back.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Pavel said, “and if that made you uncomfortable.”

The other man shook his head and waved a hand dismissively, “s’fine. M’used to being rushed out, not kissed sweetly.”

“Oh,” the elf said before he smiled mischievously and leaning over Dorian, “I can help fix that, if you like.”

The Tevinter man looked shocked for a moment before smirking, “no objections here- but who would have thought you’d be so full of mischief. Much less this early.”

Pavel laughed and started a series of lazy kisses before the sunlight started to hit them directly and he let out a sigh before sitting back up, “I have to get to the war room before they come looking for me.”

Dorian nodded and shooed him off playfully, sitting up himself before the elf assured him he could laze about if he so desired. Dorian took him up on that offer after a moment of consideration, deciding to take full advantage of the fact that he didn’t have to rush away before anyone knew of the scandal.

 


	11. A Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dorian has a break down, and there's a lot of implied butt-touching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to get up I have been beyond busy. Here you go, you lovely patient bunch.

Dorian should have seen this coming. This is what they did. This thing they had where they were genuine and emotional and adult with one another was something he should have been prepared for by now. He wasn’t, of course, but he should have been.

Or maybe not. Was there anyone out there that should ever be expected to be prepared to suddenly break down about their whole childhood to their lover? He supposed not, but it didn’t change the fact that he felt terrible about it.

Pavel had asked him to meet him in his chambers for dinner that night, and asked a simple question. He hadn’t even stressed the issue. He just wanted to know why Dorian had thought he would demand something in return for his help with the amulet, why he’d been scared to be chased off at every turn, and the floodgates had opened. He hadn’t even been aware that they were about to burst, but here he was, and his lover was as patient as always.

Pavel had tucked Dorian to his chest and put both of them to bed once the Tevinter man had cried himself dry of tears. The atmosphere in the room turned from desperate to melancholy, and it had Dorian on edge.

 

* * *

 

All of this emotion and physical contact between them and Dorian was suddenly acutely aware that, while he was enjoying the snuggling, kissing, flirting, emotional support, and general romance and friendship they had going, there was a tension. It sat there in the back of his head constantly since he’d gotten to know the elf at all, but he’d tuned it out when he’d thought it was all hopeless, but it was still there.

It hit him in the face rather rudely when he’d been lost in thought, his mind drifting from the book in his hands to his lover not unlike a pining maiden. Making him stiffen in his seat, his eyes went wide with the realization. Maker, the thoughts of ravishing Pavel hadn’t even been at the forefront of his mind since the elf had almost died trying to protect everyone back at Haven, but still he was frustrated. He’d been on edge about the lingering sadness in the room the night before had put him on edge because none of this was familiar to him.

Snuggling, sleeping, gushing about feelings? Dorian had done none of it before and while he was happy for it, not only was his libido reminding him of his long-ignored sexual attraction, but he needed to do something he was familiar with.

He could do mindless pleasure a lot better than deep emotional… stuff.

 

* * *

 

Dorian barely had the whereabouts to curse Pavel’s name. He’d gone up to the Inquisitor’s room that very evening and done his best to be seductive, and he’d succeeded. but instead of him being the one to kiss the elf silly out of frustration as soon as he got the okay to do as such, well, that had been the go-ahead.

“What do you say we cut to the chase?” He’s whispered into the younger man’s ear, voice low and thick.

And the elf fucking turns around entirely, takes his face in his hands, and kisses him so intensely, so suddenly, that he’s sent reeling. When will this man stop making him dizzy?

“It’s about time, Dorian,” Pavel said, exasperated as e pulled away and pushed him back against the desk.

“What do you mean ‘it’s about time’?” He sputtered in response, bewildered.

The smaller man gave him a look that asked him if the answer wasn’t, in fact, painfully obvious, before bringing the Altus mage back in for another kiss.

 

* * *

 

“I had no idea you were so frustrated,” Dorian admitted once he was sure Pavel was capable of conversation again.

The elf grunted and rolled his eyes, bringing Dorian into his arms and nuzzling into his neck, “I’m surprised, what with what you were about to say back in Haven before everything went… wrong.”

Dorian chuckled, running one hand through the elf’s hair and wrapped his other arm about his waist, “yes, well, being constantly scared I’ll be chased off by one person or another or that one of us will die is a real mood-killer.”

The elf heaved a heavy sigh and held him closer, “don’t remind me of that right now… Can we simply enjoy the fact that we’re both here and no one’s about to hiss and spit at us?”

The taller man kissed his hair in response and they lay there for quite a while before drifting off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

It was needless to say that after a rather pleasant morning, both of their moods were noticeably better. Of course, it had been that way for the past day as well, but the near-relaxed happiness from both of them was near palpable. Both rampant emotions and frustrations lifted, they were not only more at ease with one another, but such an accomplished feeling meant they were faring well in work-related business as well.

Cullen gave Dorian a knowing smirk that the mage knew meant he was happy for them, and Leliana dropped hint to Pavel that told him she was aware, but didn’t have all that much to say on the matter. Josephine seemed somewhat put-off at first, much like when the three of them had noticed they’d become romantically involved, but seemed to shake it off well enough over time. They both felt a little bad about hurting her feelings, but  knew that if it were more than the woman getting over a crush in due time, they’d be inclined to worry for her in truth. She’d be fine.

Of course, nothing got outside of the Inner Circle, much less Inquisition ranks- not as far as any of them knew. Despite all of Pavel’s spitting and hissing at the matter, they were all mindful of the population-at-large’s possible opinions about it all, and resolved to keep it under wraps for the most part. As far as anyone outside the Inquisitor’s closest people were concerned, he and Dorian were close friends and worked exceptionally well together on missions.

 

 


	12. The Court is Not for the Soft-Hearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Winter Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am the WORST I am SO SORRY. This chapter has been done for a while but I'm not happy with it but it's pretty clear at this point that I'm never gonna get around to editing it, so I'm just gonna ahnd this over nad hope you guys enjoy it despite the obnoxious wait. Bad Andy, BAD.

Pavel was overwhelmed the moment he stepped out of the carriage. In the days before this, he’d been skating the hopeful line between assurance that they could do this- if just barely- and doubt. Now he was just flat-out intimidated. The palace was huge, and full of people who were guaranteed to judge him on sight. He was a Dalish elf and a mage- and he knew that most of them wouldn’t know it until they either saw him in the Inquisition garb and being paraded around, or announced before all of them outright. He met Gaspard at the gate and made polite, though discrete, as Josephine has so painstakingly taught him, conversation with him before being turned loose in the gardens.

Dorian was whisked away before he could so much as find even the smallest window to give him a look that expressed just how hopeless he was feeling already. He was practically on his own out here, a few soldiers peppered here and there wasn’t nearly as comforting as Cullen had intended them to be.

Leliana had warned him that for someone like him, who not so much as wore their heart on their sleeve as he put in the hands of anyone he spoke to, this place would be a living hell. She’d taken great measures and hours of time out of both of their days in the time leading up to the ball to ensure he wouldn’t make the mistake of doing anything of the sort in a place of such high stakes.

Thus, he felt trapped, and his only relief and comfort was returning an important ring to a fussing noblewoman. She’d thanked him profusely and he’d felt a little better. Of course, it was quashed and rekindled in one fell swoop on his way into the gates to the palace proper. Whispers of how he, one of the Dalish and a mage, could not possibly be someone as important as the Inquisitor had become made him feel worse than before.He made it to the gate and Josephine must have been able to read him, because she smiled at him and assured him that the Court approved of his returning the noblewoman’s ring. It made him feel better, on however small of a scale, and he clung to the hope that he could, in fact, make the Inquisition look like a solid and trustworthy organization.

He headed inside and was met with a quieter scene, but swaths of people whispering, quite a few of them turning to stare at him. Similar words to what he’d heard outside met his ears and he fought to keep his expression blank. He looked over at Cassandra by the banister and nodded toward the door to the ballroom. They would be called to be announced soon. He steeled himself and swept his eyes across the room. The attention on him had faded off, the nobles returning to their own conversations and agendas for the evening. He steeled himself with a deep breath and found a spot within earshot of a couple of dignitaries where he could pretend to admire some artwork on the wall.

Gaspard brushed by him and waved for him to follow. They were being announced now.

After being announced, everything went to hell. Running about collecting secrets, hunting for Halla statuettes, rushing to get back into the fray of the Game. His only respite was brief conversations with his advisors and Inner Circle, checking in and relaying information and occasionally just plain making quick small talk about the ball.

What made this whole ordeal all the more terrifying, there was the dreadful future he and Dorian had been trapped in months ago. In that timeline, Celene has been assassinated, but his advisors had told him that she could still die and it wouldn’t happen, so long as Orlais was stable. He was even being encouraged to let her die.

He shook his head at the thought, on his way to check in with Leliana with his latest in all the dirty secrets he’d been collecting that evening. The very thought of something happening in ordinance with that timeline made his stomach flip. That couldn’t happen, not even part of it, or he’d never forgive himself. Celene would not die- not on his watch.

As evening grew to night, and the sky grew darker, Pavel managed to sneak away long enough to take care of Venatori, and speak with Briala. He then hunted down her locket and Celene, reuniting them. He would squeeze every bit of positivity he could out of this evening if it killed him. He’d go mad otherwise.

With that out of the way, his ballroom dance lessons came in handy, talking with the Duchess before covering it up with more dancing with pretty noblewomen. they fawned over him- his power, really- and their parents more-or-less subtly suggested marriage. He politely declined each time, telling them that life by his side would not suit a proper lady at all- what with being away all the time and running about the wilderness killing to avoid being killed and all. He was eloquent, of course, but he was close to his limit. He was spoken for, thank you very much.

Pavel leaned against the railing of the secluded balcony. Morrigan had just left him to himself until the next person came through and demanded something of him. He pulled his mother’s scarf from where he’d tucked it into his coat and pressed it to his lips like before. “Creators, give me strength,” he murmured with a heavy sigh, “if this is to become a frequent occurrence, I do not think I will be able to handle it.”

“Why so pensive, my dear Inquisitor?” A voice prompted him to jump and stuff the scarf back into his coat, turning to see Dorian and relaxing, “you should be celebrating!” He continued, though the elf did not miss the concern in his expression, “we saved the day! Literally, the day is saved!”

Pavel frowned and turned back to the railing, leaning on it and looking away from his lover, “there are still many dead, Dorian… And I thought you disapproved of my saving Celene?”

Dorian shook his head, “it does not matter much. What matters is that Orlais is stable and we have set Corypheus back that much more. As for the dead? It is unfortunate, yes, but consider this- they would have died regardless of our interference, and at least this way, their lives did not go to waste. We’ve prevented what we saw when we met. That is worth celebrating, no?”

Pavel supposed less needless death was always a good thing. He sighed and smiled at Dorian, “you’re right. I’m simply not in the best of spirits.”

The taller man leaned on the railing beside him and used a gentle hand to turn his head to face him, “I’m sorry, Amatus, I know you hate things like this.”

Pavel smiled at him sadly and leaned into the hand at his cheek briefly. Dorian stepped away turning with a flourish, and the elf looked at him despairingly as he declared he needed a distraction, and asked for a dance. He took a deep breath and let out a heavy sigh and a small smile as he accepted. Dancing with someone he without ulterior motives sounded nice- a good note to end this terrible evening on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still have to write Chapter 13. I can make absolutely no promises as to when that's happening, seeing as my mental state has been rather fragile and over-all not good lately. Apologies for all this. I feel really bad about it since a lot of you seem to enjoy reading this. Forgive me please.


End file.
